It won’t stop me from doing what needs to be done.
Not my pain.
Not even Harlow’s.
19
Harlow
I’m stalling, and I know it. I spend a full thirty minutes in my shower, letting the hot water numb my thoughts. The shower has always been my favorite part of my rooms, a large space with far too many showerheads and tiles ranging from copper to rose gold to a faint pink. It gives the impression of being rained on in the desert. It helps me think, or at least normally it does.
There are no revelations for me here this evening.
Once I turn off the water and get ready for bed, I’ll have to make the trip down the hall to Eli’s room. Something I’ve done more times than I can count; even after we stopped sleeping side by side, the sex was always good. The tiniest of bonds holding us together despite the ever-increasing distance between us. If I were stronger, I would have stopping sleeping with him when I realized that every time I walked back to my room afterward, the hurt inside me grew.
I thought I’d outgrown my masochistic coping mechanisms. Apparently not.
That doesn’t change the fact that I’m tired. Exhausted. I just want to fall into bed and pull the covers over my head and forget for a few hours. Not fight with Abel about the fact that I’ve given Eli my word and, goddamn it, that means something. Not lay next to Eli for hours with five years’ worth of things left unsaid between us. I don’t want to do any of it.
But I’m not a coward, and I always do what I say I’ll do.
I take a slow breath and make myself turn off the water. I’m not even surprised to walk out of the shower and find Abel waiting for me. I lift my chin. “I’m not going to fight with you about this.”
“There’s nothing to fight about. You don’t want to do this, so you’re not going to do it.” He hands me a fluffy towel, his expression unreadable.
“I gave my word.” I dry off slowly and then pad naked to the counter and grab my lotion. “It doesn’t matter what I want to do, because I agreed. Eli made the mistake of trying to make me an oathbreaker. I truly hope you won’t do the same.”
Abel props his hip on the counter and watches me rub lotion into my skin. Heat slides through his eyes, but he makes no move to reach for me. “The terms have changed.”
“That’s bullshit, Abel.” I finish with the lotion and turn to him. “Or is the problem that all your talk about me fucking Eli is bullshit?”
He gives me a slow smile. “Nah. Like I told Eli, I’m not jealous. I’m territorial.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“It’s really not.”
My brain finally catches up with what he just said. “You talked to Eli about this.”
“Come on, Harlow. You’ve only known me a couple days, but you’re a smart girl. Tell me you’re surprised.”
I’m not. Abel is the kind of guy who wades into any situation and, fifteen minutes later, he’s the one in charge. Part of it is sheer strength, part of it ruthlessness, and the rest is a strange sort of charm that isn’t quite charisma but draws people all the same. The way he handled Old Town was brilliant. No posturing. No threats. Just a calm and clear declaration of intent. I could barely take my gaze off him, and the rest of Old Town obviously felt the same.
That doesn’t mean he gets to bulldoze me now.
I drag a brush through my hair, wincing when I yank too hard. Abel tilts his head to the side. “That won’t do.” He catches my wrist and takes the brush from my hand. I watch, my throat tight, as he comes to stand behind me and carefully begins brushing my hair.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
He’s got a look of concentration on his face that I’ve seen before, both in the fights during Lammas and when we fuck. The brush is a gentle tug on my hair, a soft touch at the hands of a man capable of so much violence. It makes me shiver. Abel’s eyes flick up and meet mine in the mirror. “It strikes me that you’ve never been taken care of, Harlow. It’s a damn shame.”
It takes me two tries to speak. “I can take care of myself.”
“No doubt.” He finishes one section, drapes it over my shoulder, and moves to the next. “But just because you can doesn’t mean you should have to.” Still holding my gaze, he leans down and presses a kiss to my shoulder. “You’ll share a bed with Eli. You’ll keep your word. You’ll just do it in a way that will minimize harm.”
I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a pyre and he just tossed a match at my feet. Every time I think I have a read on Abel, he does something like this and sends me spinning out into confusion. “Why are you doing this?”